


The Urge of the Flesh

by keithyourpal



Series: sheith big bang 'verse [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Body Modification, Breeding, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9074224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithyourpal/pseuds/keithyourpal
Summary: The fight with Zarkon triggers a change in Keith.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be references to past Shiro/Galra characters, along with the usual bundle of problematic themes that come with omegaverse.

Black’s cockpit was a swirl of red lights and blaring alarms during the jump. Her controls jerked out of Shiro’s hands as they hurtled off course. In mere seconds the wormhole opened and as abruptly as the chaos began, it ended. In the aftermath everything fell into a still, uneasy silence.

The rough ride left him with a stiff neck and renewed pain where Haggar’s magic struck him. Wincing, he tried to assess the situation, grabbing hold of the controls to steady himself. The wormhole had deposited Black in the veritable ass crack of the universe and left them suspended just outside the orbit of a large moon her sensors could not identify. At the lack of any immediate danger her alarms gradually died down, leaving behind a screen of blinking alerts and notifications that all fought for his attention.

He forced himself to ease his grip on the controls, to feel the situation from his lion’s perspective. It took a few minutes of steady breathing before he felt calm enough and his head cleared enough to let her in. Black was just as startled as he was, but thankfully not panicked or damaged. Other than being stranded in an unknown corner of space with no hope of contacting or returning to the castle, she was fine.

That made one of them, at least.

“Allura? Coran?” he tried anyway. His voice sounded too loud in the overwhelming silence. “Do you copy?”

No response.

“Team,” he said, this time with an edge of desperation, “do you copy?”

Still nothing--then, a faint voice cut in. He strained to make sense of it and could only hear a pained groan broken up by static. A new alert popped up at the same time a low rumble from Black sounded through his mind, and although he couldn’t yet see what he picked up, he knew.

“Keith,” he said urgently, straightening up in his seat. “Hang tight, buddy. I’m coming for you.”

He let Black guide him down through the atmosphere of the moon, then several kilometers across its craggy surface until a crater came into view. She took him down into the crater and there at the bottom they found a trail that led to the Red Lion, her massive form partially obscured by a cloud of debris. Her once-lustrous surface was dinged and scuffed, her eyes dim and unresponsive, speaking to the heavy damage she must have sustained during Keith’s fight with Zarkon; her ability to protect herself during the crash might have been limited.

Shiro refused to let himself dwell on what that might mean for her paladin as he landed Black nearby. As soon as he got to his feet he doubled over again with a sharp gasp. The pain in his left side erupted with a white-hot fury. He clenched his teeth and did his best to bear with it, taking care to avoid aggravating it further if he could help it, which seemed unlikely. With his jetpack damaged he really only had one way to get to Keith.

As he bounced his way gingerly to one of Red’s forelegs he called out for Keith again. “Keith, can you hear me? Are you okay? I need you to let me in.”

He reached one of Red’s legs and held fast to the metal with one arm, grimacing as he waited for a response. Static filled his helmet for a moment before cutting out once again.

Swearing, he pounded his fist against Red’s leg. It killed him, knowing Keith might be hurt and not being able to _do_ anything. If he didn’t respond soon, Shiro might have to get Black to wrench open Red’s maw so he could get him out. That would have to be a last resort. There was no telling what kind of lifeforms they might encounter out here; two lions were always a safer bet than one.

A sudden tremor nearly unbalanced him. Looking up, he saw Red’s lower jaw begin to open. Hope fluttered in his chest as he kicked off and travelled up into the darkness of her airlock.

“Keith?” he called again as he touched down. “I’m in.

This time he got a reply, so quiet it was nearly drowned out by the static. “Shiro?”

“Almost there.”

He found Keith still in his seat, held upright only by his seat harness with his head slumped. Red’s panel flickered to life as Shiro approached. She was still partially functioning and had only powered down after weathering the crash to preserve her remaining strength. Per her readings, Keith had not been injured in the fight or the crash. Shiro released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before he kneeled down by the seat.

He looked up at Keith’s face as he set a steadying hand on his knee. “Keith, it’s Shiro. You with me?”

Keith’s eyes opening sluggishly and struggled to focus. His flushed face was tinted dark blue by the visor of his helmet. Shiro felt all his dread come rushing back. Despite what Red’s diagnostics determined, something was clearly wrong.

“Hey. Look at me.” He undid the clasps for the harness. “I’m going to take you back to my lion so I can keep an eye on you. Can you stand?”

“I’m--” Keith whispered. His entire body trembled while Shiro helped him stand up, supporting him around the shoulders and waist as they left the cockpit. “Shiro, I--”

“I’ve got you,” Shiro said, pulling him closer. “Just hang on. I’ve got you.”

Red opened for them again after her secured the hatch for the airlock. He made a quick decision and carefully gathered Keith up in his arms before stepping back out onto the surface of the moon. Despite his best efforts to go slow the pain in his side kept flaring up, but Keith was hardly able to stand, much less fly them back to Black.

Keith seemed to crumple in Shiro’s arms. He only felt this way because of the lighter gravity, Shiro told himself. Red said he was fine, so he had to be fine. Whatever was happening, they could handle it.

Black’s cabin was a cramped space outfitted with enough supplies for two or three people in an emergency. Comfort was not a priority. Shiro had to hunch as he helped Keith sit down on the single bunk. He opted to rest on his knees as he set about taking off Keith’s armor. Keith managed to stay sitting up, albeit unsteadily, as Shiro removed his boots and leg pieces.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Shiro said. He reached up for the helmet and pulled it free gently. Locks of Keith’s hair were damp with sweat, and his skin was burning hot to the touch as Shiro touched his cheek hesitantly. This had to be more than just a fever or shock for him to act this way, looking down at Shiro almost pitifully with his mouth parted and the tip of his tongue pink against his pale lips.

Then Shiro noticed the smell, just the faintest whiff of something like marjoram mingled with perspiration, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

Keith choked out a guttural cry when Shiro shoved him down by the shoulders.

He nosed greedily along Keith’s throat to get more of that heady scent. The sudden primal urge overrode the fast-dwindling rational part of him that was as confused as it was scared. Keith’s breath grew shallower and faster, his chest stuttering underneath Shiro while the rest of him tensed up, his arms and legs pinned down. Without the bulk of his armor he felt so small, so vulnerable.

Shiro came up for air light-headed. _This isn’t me_ , he thought dizzily as he pushed himself up. His own breathing was too loud and ragged from the exertion it took for him to fight against his urges. Haggar’s illusion was still fresh on his conscience: a monster that took pleasure in exerting power over those who could not defend themselves against him. That wasn’t him. He refused to let it be.

Keith squirmed underneath him. He wasn’t trying to get away, Shiro noticed dimly. By the helpless way his wide eyes were fixated on Shiro’s face, it almost seemed like Keith wanted Shiro to come closer.

“You . . . you need to rest,” Shiro said through his teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath when one of Keith’s hands touched the back of his leg, fingers digging into his hamstring. Keith’s heat was infectious, creeping up through Shiro until his armor felt too tight, the collar of his bodysuit suffocating. And finally, one coherent thought surfaced from his muddled mind: _fuck him, claim him_.

“I need you,” Keith said hoarsely, and the last hope Shiro had of regaining any kind of sobriety was swallowed up.

It felt like deja vu.

_A voice echoing in his mind, hushed and pleading. “Do not make me beg, Champion.” A cell, illuminated with weak violet light from the corridor, the long shadows of two guards spilling across the wall. Overwhelming concupiscence coursing through his flesh with every rush of blood in his veins, a warm wet mouth at his throat and hands clawing down his naked back, a tight heat around his cock, a firm body writhing underneath him._

Shiro didn’t remember closing his eyes and was jerked out of his reverie by a low growl reverberating deep from within his own chest. An aftertaste of the forgotten kiss lingered on his tongue.

“Please,” Keith gasped underneath him, his pink face scrunched up as if in pain. “Please, Shiro, don’t make me beg-- _ah_ \--!”

Shiro ran his cybernetic hand up Keith’s chest, swiping a thumb across the perk of his nipple. The growl died down as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Keith’s throat, found the thrum of his jugular, and sank in his teeth.


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro tasted skin and sweat; whether it was still a flick of memory or what he felt in the moment as Keith arched up underneath him, he did not know.

With a gasp, he eased up on Keith’s throat, sucked at the bite mark, then kissed it, again and again. Each time drew another low, pained groan from Keith. The collar of his undersuit chafed against Shiro’s jaw as he groped for the zipper at the nape of its neck, yanking it down.

Keith’s erection pressed firmly against his lower abdomen as his knees squeezed around Shiro’s waist, rubbing against the wound from Haggar. Shiro bit back a scream at the burst of pain that followed, feeling it just as keenly in his mind as with his body.

He tried to focus again on Keith, on how his naked skin was sticky from sweat and pungent with arousal. But he could not focus so much as completely lose himself in the all-encompassing smell and feel and taste, all his sense bombarded with _Keith, Keith, Keith_ , and it was still not enough to satiate him.

Keith grunted when Shiro ran his fingers down his torso to the waistband of his boxers. At the touch of cool metal on his cock Keith jerked up again, as if in a convulsion, and came down panting hard as Shiro tugged the boxers off.

Putting Voltron aside, this wasn’t how he ever imagined they would have sex for the first time, with Keith writhing and whimpering incoherently at his every touch, with his eyes alternating between being squeezed shut or open wide and unfocused and on the verge of tears, as if transfixed by Shiro’s face. Mindless. Desperate.

Shiro’s mouth felt too dry as the thought _this is better_ flashed insidiously through the back of his mind. This--with Keith laid bare beneath him, his thin legs hiked up, nipples dark against the sweaty sheen on his heaving chest, his cock bulging and wet and pink against his abdomen--this was much better.

Shiro let the undersuit slide off the bunk as he lifted Keith up by the hips. He slid one hand under the boxers and pressed in between the cleft of his ass to feel a slick discharge. Keith shuddered again at the contact. His eyes went wide again with a renewed burst of hunger, then belated confusion.

“W-what--?”

“You’re fine,” Shiro murmured as Keith clenched up around the digit. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

The marjoram smell was so strong now it was cloying, whetting a bestial urge inside Shiro he couldn’t try to suppress even if he wanted to. He wanted to hold Keith down and fuck his finger in mercilessly, to wring out a mixture of pleasure and pain until it culminated in Keith begging him for more, for his cock, for his--

_\--pressure all around him and it hurts. A voice saying, “Be still, Champion,” but it hurts and he doesn’t know why or how to make it stop--_

He heard his name as if called from a distance. “Shiro, _please_ , Shiro . . .”

A second finger joining the first, he pushed in, not yielding even when Keith tightened more in involuntary resistance. Shiro kept up the pressure, his eyes locked on the contortions that passed across Keith’s face, on the way his teeth dug into his bottom lip to stifle a heavy moan.

Keith was beautiful. Shiro had always, always thought so. But as wrecked and vulnerable as he was now, was everything the darkest part of Shiro wanted most. Here there were no rules or prying eyes or doubt; he would give everything he had to Keith, and Keith would take it.

His own cock strained against the confines of his clothing. He satisfied himself with rutting against Keith’s thigh, tightening his hold as he continued to thrust his fingers in.

“Shiro,” Keith slurred, his voice deathly quiet as he pleaded, “Shiro, ‘s not enough, please, please . . .”

And that was it. With a snarl Shiro dragged Keith close, desperate to press the head of his cock to that welcoming hole. A sharp hiss left him as the slick tightness slowly engulfed him. He gripped Keith’s waist so hard his bionic hand was almost crushing against the jut of his hip bone, pinning him down in place and continuing to push in.

Keith cried out, in pain or relief or perhaps a jumble of both. He breath came shorter and faster with every tick. Shiro rocked in with only a few pauses, until Keith had taken every inch he physically could. Releasing another low hiss, Shiro tried to catch his breath, blinking as sweat dripped into his eyes and coursed down his chest and tensed arms.

Keith’s hands scrabbled desperately at Shiro’s shoulder blades, panting from effort as he adjusted to Shiro’s girth inside him. A warm hand cupped his face. Blindly Shiro tilted his head up, kissing every part of Keith he could get his lips on, his collarbone, his cheek, until Keith’s trembling fingers dug into his hair and guided him to his mouth.

Their breathing echoed loudly in the cabin. All Shiro could feel was the slick heat of Keith’s body as he settled back with a sigh, abdominal muscles contracting.

“Good boy,” Shiro whispered. He rolled his hips slightly and made Keith cry out again. The sound was so satisfying, so addictive. “Good . . . so good, Keith.”

His breath was hot against Shiro’s sternum, hitching sharply when Shiro began to pull out. His voice was thin and cracked with desperation. “N-no, no, don’t stop, Shiro, please--”

Shiro obligingly fucked back into him with a sloppy kiss to the forehead. He exhaled hard and almost--almost _growled_ at the way Keith continued to cling to him and whimper. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hurts,” Keith choked out. His voice shook with every movement. A breathless wheeze, rising in pitch. “Shiro, it h-hurts.”

Shiro felt it too. With every thrust it felt like Keith was tightening more and more around him, shuddering through his entire body in a violent wave. He felt Keith’s nails dig deeper into his shoulder blade and bicep. No pain followed; all he could feel was a molten pleasure that left him empty and shaking. But he couldn’t relax. Another orgasm tore through him, catching them both off guard.

“ _Fuck_!” Keith cried out. His legs trembled harder around Shiro’s waist, his toes curling against his flank.

His pulse was still racing. Shiro felt it as he mouthed along his throat again, baring his teeth against the flesh. Too much sensation was happening all at once, from yet another orgasm to the insistent burning in his side to Keith’s ragged moans.

Perhaps he was still in Haggar’s illusion. Perhaps this was a means to make him lose his mind, torn between the urges to stop or to bury himself further within, so deep he could never free himself.

A third orgasm. The scale was quickly tipping more toward pain than pleasure, but it still felt _right_ , even as he gave in to the mindlessness of it all with nothing to pierce the fog but the sound of his name, called out in a voice he had forgotten.

  


\------

  


“Do you know why you are here?” 

A pair of yellow eyes stare at him from his own bunk. Galra eyes. Behind him, Shiro hears the door hiss shut, locking him in his cell before he has time to even think about resisting.

His body is unsteady, too heavy, without the careless support of the guards holding him up by his arms. Shiro reaches out to the wall, flinching as the sensation is translated through his new hand. By his estimate it has been little more than a month since the druids amputated his hand and replaced it with their prosthetic.

Returning to find a Galra in his cell was not something he could have anticipated would happen next. Nor had he thought he would ever see a Galra in shackles. Despite this, the Galra does not seem bothered by the heavy collar around his neck or the chain of violet energy connecting it to the wall. In a way he seems docile, reminiscent of a house cat in the way he sits--and Shiro realizes then that this Galra is much smaller than average, smaller than Shiro. At a guess he seems to be Commander Holt’s size.

“Why?” Shiro says. His mouth feels like cotton. “Why are you here?”

The eyes blink. Shiro feels vibrations through the walls, running through his body, making his jaw chatter. After a moment he realizes the Galra is, as far as he can tell, purring. The sound is harsh and yet relaxing, invoking a sort of calmness in Shiro that is lighter than the dense numbness he has grown used to.

“Come. I will show you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I didn't think it would take me this long to make headway on the next chapter of this but here we are. I wanted to wrap this up with this chapter but things don't always go according to plan! Here's hoping the next chapter is more cooperative. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Shiro woke to the feel of tepid drool on his chest and shallow snoring against the side of his neck. Keith felt considerably heavier than he had earlier, perhaps because his knee was now jammed right against Shiro’s wound.

His head hurt like a hangover on top of a concussion. For several moments all he could do was blink against the low, sterile light of the cabin as his vision struggled to focus. A faint nudge inside his mind startled him. Thinking it was Black, he recoiled from the touch. She did not need to scold him. He was already trying to figure out what had come over him and Keith, what had made them do . . . this.

He sat up and carefully moved Keith, so his head was resting on the pillow instead. Keith did not wake. After whatever happened to him in the fight against Zarkon and . . . afterward, he needed rest. At the same time, Shiro was not quite sure what to make of their predicament on his own. He thought about waking Keith up anyway, then hesitated as he took in his fellow paladin’s form.

Hickeys were peppered along his throat and collarbone, and a bruise was forming above one hip. Keith squirmed, face scrunching up in his sleep. With a sleepy grumble he rolled onto his side to face the cabin wall, exposing his naked backside.

Semen coated the entire back of his thighs. More than should be humanly possible, even from the two of them combined. All Shiro could do was stare, dumbfounded, and wonder how they were even still _alive_ after fucking each other beyond the limits of reality. Then again, his point of reference for what could be considered realistic had been thoroughly fucked ever since going to Kerberos.

His eyes followed a dried streak over the contour of one of Keith’s buttocks. Whatever had happened, whatever regret Shiro felt about the circumstances around how it came to be, he felt-- _gratified_ that Keith would still want him, even after all the changes he had undergone in the past year, that were forced on him by the universe at every turn.

He looked away.

Shiro eased himself off the bunk and kneeled on the floor of the cabin. He felt nausea roiling in his gut. The foggy stupor in his head made his movements clumsy as he felt around the bottom lip of the wall until he found a sensor.

The wall panel slid aside at his touch, allowing him to pilfer through the supplies the team had spent one afternoon storing in each of the lions. Fifteen quarts of water. Ten pounds of Altean emergency rations, formed into small bars. Hunk was still experimenting with what he could cook that could be stored for emergency use, so they were unfortunately an authentic Coran recipe.

He pried out a bottle of water and a wrapped bar of the rations. It made the Garrison’s space food look appetizing in comparison, but he felt so ravenous that he couldn’t complain. After some more searching he found the case of first aid supplies Coran had explained to all of them.

There was a small jar of rancid pink salve and packaged swathes of a sticky, dark blue material that looked like crepe paper. From the description they sounded like the Altean equivalent to band aids but, Coran assured them, much cooler.

“Keith,” Shiro tried to say, surprising himself at how dry and raw his throat felt. The sound came out husky and cracked. He cleared his throat and nudged Keith with the bottle.

The air was heavy with the musk of sweat and sex, strengthened by the close quarters. Shiro leaned back as soon as Keith’s eyes opened, feeling around for another bottle of water in the wall panel.

“Whaaaat,” Keith mumbled in sleepy annoyance, stretching and moving onto his back. He threw an arm over his face. “Lemme sleep . . .”

“We need to talk. Drink some water.” Shiro followed his own advice, though it did nothing to slake the dry feeling in his mouth.

Keith sat up, visibly against his unconscious will, and opened the bottle Shiro left for him. He squinted in confusion as he looked around. In one go he chugged half of the bottle and sloshed the rest of it down his chin.

“Why’re you naked?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. He looked at his bare arm in surprise. “Why am _I_ na--?”

He dropped the bottle.

“Oh my _God_ ,” he said in a strained voice close to a squeak. “Did we--? In a lion?”

“You don’t remember?”

Keith shook his head dazedly. “I-I remember the wormhole and I remember crashing Red . . . everything after that, I thought . . . I thought it was all a dream.”

“I don’t know what came over us,” Shiro said. “I thought you were hurt, and once we got in here I just . . . I don’t know. I lost my cool. I didn’t know what was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

That gave Shiro pause. He struggled to recall details from his flashbacks, for anything that could help him remember more about the Galra in his cell. But the fleeting impressions he’d had earlier were long faded. Why they had resurfaced now was as much a mystery as why the shields around Zarkon’s ship had gone down.

“I’m just sorry,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Keith rolled his shoulder. “I think so. The crash must have rattled me or something.”

“Yeah, you were acting strange. And then _I_ started acting strange.”

“And then we had wild, crazy, ‘I can’t believe we’re alive’ sex.”

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess we did. I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”

“Well,” Keith said, “I think I’m desperate enough for one of those bricks Coran stockpiled in here.”

He scooted forward to slide off the bunk and as soon as he put weight on them his legs crumpled underneath him. He steadied himself on the edge of the bunk just before his head knocked against the cabin wall.

“ _Oh_. That doesn’t feel good.” He winced. “How long was I out?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t tried asking Black yet.”

Keith chuckled. “This must be a lot for her to take in. It kind of is for me, too.”

They sat face to face, their knees knocking into each other as Keith forced down part of a food bar. His skin still felt feverishly hot to the touch. Shiro supposed the same was true for him, considering the gash in his side. He kept an arm crossed over his stomach to keep pressure on it.

Keith noticed and leaned forward, concerned. “What happened?”

“Haggar. She hit me with her magic.” Shiro lifted his hand slightly. After adhering to his skin, the swathe had turned a pale yellow in color. The wound still hurt like hell, except now there was a bit of added tingle. “It’ll be alright for now. I’m more concerned about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You weren’t earlier.”

“Don’t worry about me, Shiro,” Keith said with a slight edge.

“Keith. We’re stranded here until the castle or the Galra find us. There’s not much for me to do _except_ worry about you.”

“You’re the one with a big magic burn. Worry about yourself.”

Shiro acquiesced. Looking over Keith again, he still looked haggard, but he was speaking clearly and giving Shiro _the look_ that said to mind his own business. He gave it to Shiro a lot at the Garrison, especially in the beginning, before he began to open up and let Shiro take an interest and worry in his life.

He felt the pressure inside his head again and pushed it back again. If there was any trouble Black could let him know the normal way. Shiro closed his eyes and tried to think of a possible plan in the event they were found by Galra or other hostiles here, and found he was just too drained to do much of anything other than listen to Keith eat.

In a way, having this respite was a godsend. He just wish it hadn’t been double-edged, like things so often were now.

He opened his eyes again as he felt Keith move. He reached past Shiro for the cache, in doing so brushing his arm against Shiro’s uninjured side.

The high came rushing back. A low groan escaped him. Keith’s cheek brushed against Shiro’s as he continued to stretch forward, pausing only when Shiro set a hand against his chest and held him back.

“Shiro,” Keith said, reaching up a hand of his own to touch Shiro’s. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

 _I’m not_ , Shiro thought. The heat was beginning to course back through him, as if the temperature in the cabin was suddenly being raised. Keith settled down on his lap, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. His cheeks were flushed cherry red.

The nudging inside his mind returned, stronger and more persistent, like a guiding force. Not Black, he finally realized. It was something within himself, something that had been stirred up and wouldn’t settle down again until it had its fill.

Keith spread his legs, the movement a bit unsure but his expression steadfast as he stared at Shiro and brought his hand up to kiss the knuckles with his hot lips. “C’mon.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wake up, Champion.”

Shiro starts awake suddenly, his heart leaping in his throat. He feels a slender, steadying hand press against his abdomen. The touch is soothing, familiar

\--strange

_wrong_  


  
  
  
He felt cold metal against his back and legs as his head rhythmically knocked against the wall. Blinking, he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. A thick aroma like cologne filled his nose, clouding his thoughts. All he could make out was the touch of another body on top of his, a voice crying out in pleasure in his ear.

  


_“This will be over soon.”_

  


“Ahra,” he moaned, arching up off the cold floor as he felt himself orgasm. He reached for the long hair and twisted his fingers, catching nothing but air.

Only afterward could his mind catch up with his body, and he realized belatedly that the scent he remembered was not what enveloped him now. He blinked, the light watery, the figure looming before him too shadowy to parse out, until he heard a thin voice say his name.

“Shiro?”

_Keith._

“Shiro, are you okay?” He felt a light slap on the side of his face. “Don’t laugh, but I think . . . I think we’re stuck.”

Shiro blinked, trying to rouse himself. “Ssstuck?” he echoed, his mouth not quite cooperating with his brain

“God, I hope no one attacks us like this,” he heard Keith mutter. “Dick stuck up in my ass. What a way to go.”

A low roar sounded off in Shiro’s mind, followed by a vision. He saw the sky warping as a wormhole formed, giving way to the Green Lion and then the Castle of the Lions.

He blinked, and the vision was gone. The roar continued to ring in his ears.

“It’s Pidge,” he said at the same time Keith said, “Goddammit!”

Shiro patted him on the back, struggling to remember his train of thought before they had been interrupted. About five minutes passed before the tight constricted feeling lessened, and Keith shot straight up. He scrambled for his undersuit and the pieces of his armor, cursing under his breath as he stumbled.

“Shit,” he said after tugging his undersuit on, glancing down at himself and then to Shiro helplessly. The high collar hid all the incriminating marks for their escapade, but there was nothing they could do to hide the tousled hair or the undeniable smell of sex. “Shiro, what do we do? What do we say?”

“I don’t know. Let me get dressed.” Shiro moved more carefully than Keith. Their nonstop fuckfest had undone all of his previous efforts to keep the wound from worsening, and the tight undersuit felt all the more unbearable as the frayed edge around the hole stuck against the raw burning flesh, the pain mitigated only slightly by the bandage.

Keith helped him put his armor pieces back on, his touch hesitant, almost skittish.

“They’ll be here soon,” Shiro said. “You should get back to your lion.”

Keith reached up and hugged him around the shoulders. “Are you okay?” he murmured.

“As much as I can be.”

“You kind of blacked out on me,” Keith said, pulling away.

“It must have been from the pain. Now c’mon, you need to get to Red.”

Shiro seated himself gingerly in the pilot’s seat. Black powered up with another proud roar, and this time he did feel her presence in his mind. She couldn’t communicate with words, only images or the impression of thought, and right now she was very unimpressed with what he’d done to her cabin.

“Sorry, girl,” he said. “We both have some cleaning up to do.”

Another roar came, this one from outside, and Shiro knew it must be Red.

  


\-----

  
Shiro exited Black in the hangar to find Keith already waiting for him, his helmet tucked under one arm. He came up the ramp and held out an arm to help support Shiro.

“Guys!” a voice cried out. Pidge raced toward them, tearing across the hangar like a speedster. She leapt up into their arms and grabbed hold of their necks. “Guys! Are you okay? I’m so glad I found you!”

“Never better, Pidge,” Shiro lied, bending at the waist so she could touch back to the floor. “What about you? Have you found the others?”

“Just Allura and Coran, obviously. We have a read on Lance and Hunk’s location.” She lifted her glasse and wiped at her eyes. “They were ejected together like you guys were so honestly, things could have been a lot worse.

Shiro and Keith glanced at each other.

“Shiro needs a healing pod,” Keith said. “Asap.”

“It’s nothing major,” Shiro said before Pidge could respond.

“You have a hole the size of that crater in your side!” Keith pointed to where the tear in Shiro’s undersuit was. The inflamed flesh was pulsating with glowing veins of energy, and not even Coran’s bandage could hide it any longer.

“Save the bickering until we get you in a pod, Shiro,” Pidge said. “We gotta find Lance and Hunk.”

She and Keith both half-dragged Shiro up to where the healing pods were. “Allura, we can go get Lance and Hunk now,” Pidge said over the line. She turned away and hummed to herself as Keith helped Shiro undress, then helped him into the cryopod suit.

“You should go in, too,” Shiro said.

“I’m fine,” Keith repeated.

“Keith.”

“Shiro.”

“ _Guys_ ,” Pidge interrupted.

Shiro stepped back into the pod and the door slid up, cutting him off from sound as Keith and Pidge spoke to each other briefly before giving Shiro one final look as the cold began to frost over.

In what felt like seconds he heard a loud release of air and felt arms reach out for him, wrapping around his chest to catch him when his legs gave out underneath him. He expected Keith, and looked up to see Allura.

“Princess,” he said, surprised.

“Good to see you’re doing better,” she said. Her tone of voice and her face were troubled.

“What’s wrong?”

She made sure he could stand on his own and let go, stepping back and gesturing at the cryopod beside him, where Keith was sleeping. “You’ve been out for about three days,” she said. “That wound was laced with druidic energy. Fortunately we could reverse the damage. Keith came down with some kind of fever that kept getting worse, so he finally agreed to go in as well.”

“So what’s the problem?”

She moved toward Keith’s pod and held out her hands as a holo-panel flickered to life before her touch. “It’s strange. Our scanners recognize the symptoms, they just can’t identify a cause. I wonder if our trip through the time loop may have scrambled something.” 

She pulled up a screen showing Keith’s vitals. The lights were all a calm blue. “He should be all right for now. It’s just frustrating that we have to fix the castle again before we can really know what’s wrong.”

The holo-panel flickered off. “There’s nothing else we can do for him right. You should eat. I’ll go to the mess hall with you.”

Shiro looked at Keith’s face again. He seemed untroubled in the cryosleep. Whatever was wrong would be sorted out, like Shiro’s wound.

But the farther they walked from the room the more restless he felt, and there was a sort of tugging sensation at the back of his mind that wouldn’t give him peace. After wolfing down some food he returned to the cryopod room and stood in front of Keith’s pod again, puzzled as the tugging sensation seemed to go away.

Allura had come back with him, and watched him as he continued to stand and stare. “Is everything alright, Shiro?” she asked eventually.

Shiro startled; he had forgotten she was there. “I think I need a bit longer in the pod,” he said, shaking his head.

“If you think so, there’s no harm in it.”

“Let me know if Keith wakes up.”

“Of course.”

He leaned back into the pod. With the strange restlessness gone it was easy to fall back asleep, and when he woke again with the memories of Ulaz fresh in mind he forgot about the tugging sensation altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that this is finally done I can finally get working on the sequel, which I started as my sheith big bang piece last summer before having to drop out. But first, taking a break until s6. Thanks for reading. There's lots more in store for Shiro and Keith >:3cc


End file.
